509 BMG - pigs Lyrics

Woah, I'ma f*ck this bitch's throat, don't want no pussy, she too big
Tryna run up on the BMG, I'll pop your f*cking lid
This shit crazy, we done Turned to Kings, remember we was Kids
How the f*ck is they gonna help you, why're you talking to the pigs
If she let me pull it when I f*ck, I'll buy this hoe a wig
If them crackers blitz my bitches, make the dope smell like some fish
I had a bitch from Stockbridge, she used to be finessin' shit
Black truck, we suited up, tryna protect the president
Niggas talkin' way too much, mouth full of evidence
.45 got kick, ya know, my niggas, got foot fetishes
Every time a bitch start talkin' bout some love, I question it
I was on that road, I ain't even see your messages
You run up on a BMG, I'm tryna leave you where you stand
My money green like Lois Griffin's shirt, Peter Griffin's pants
I used to ride a f*cking bike to work, lookin' like Tour de France
Better already be outside when I pull up, thanks in advance
Niggas never f*ckin' liked me, I ain't put my head down
Pops told me to be a man, I always got my chest out
And nigga, I'm gon' run this shit until the day I step down
I got some shit to hit you in your ears, just like surround sound
Hey, f*ck with the BMG? You hangin' from a rope
Nigga got so much f*ckin' dope, we lookin' like Christopher Coke
I put my all into this shit, you know my niggas go for broke
I told you we was goin' up, but you ain't listen when I spoke
I'm really gon' use them things, I'm tired of talkin' bout them poles
Lil Jefe pop up out the cut and hit you in your corazon
I won't even get off the homepage if I ain't got my chrome
Everybody ain't tryna go, y'all better leave niggas alone
Baby, what you tryna do? I'm tryna stretch that pussy hole
Y'all niggas tryna be my friends, but y'all some bitch-ass niggas though
Ain't tryna waste my f*ckin' breath, already know y'all niggas know
And if you ain't tryna get hit, you better get from out the road
I'm gone